


Calculated Risks

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Avoidance, Communication, Denial of Feelings, FFF, Fear of Rejection, Feels, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Frustration, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Insecure Loki (Marvel), Kissing, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Is Bad At Feelings, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Talking, Tea, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-22 17:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22187218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: Loki doesn’t want to join the Avengers, and getting ambushed by Stark wielding a list of pros and cons is certainly not going to change his mind.It’snot.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 39
Kudos: 545





	Calculated Risks

**Author's Note:**

> I am... _slowly_ trying to get myself to write again with a few easy one shots. We'll see how this goes. I hope you enjoy this one!

“You know, I’ve run all the numbers, and I still don’t understand why you refuse to listen to me.”

Loki did his best not to react as the bane of his existence slid into the seat opposite. He’d chosen this teashop in the hopes that it would be a quiet spot to gather his thoughts, perhaps to rearrange a few certain priorities– or at the very least, to reaffirm a few particular conclusions.

Of course, he had placed a small spell over himself which would simply render him uninteresting to any curious humans, so that they would not pay enough attention to his face to be able to recognise him– he was no longer _hunted_ by the humans due to his recent actions, but he didn’t want the attention while he was trying to relax. But perhaps he should have realised and even such a spell would not work against the insatiable curiosity of Anthony Edward Stark.

Stark was wearing a grin that could have brightened even the darkest of rooms as he settled in his chair, and combined with the way that he lay his crossed arms upon the table and leaned forward, it certainly made him look like he was up to no good at all.

It also made Loki’s stomach feel a little… uneasy, but thankfully, Loki had _centuries_ of practice at keeping a straight face. He showed no reaction whatsoever as he took his teaspoon between his fingers and gently stirred his tea, before lifting it and gently placing the spoon down on the saucer.

The first sip of tea was always the best– that initial burst of flavour across his tongue, accompanied by a perfect searing warmth that always brought him a measure of calm.

Only _then_ did Loki look up properly to meet Stark’s expectant gaze.

“And what numbers would those be, pray tell?” he asked, arching a wry eyebrow for good measure. It was an expression that had been known to make even the surliest of Asgardian advisors quiver in their boots, but Stark’s grin only widened.

“I made a list,” Stark said– and then he had the audacity to reach into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a crumpled sheet of paper, which he then smoothed flat on the table.

Loki almost rolled his eyes. That was as clear an indication as any that all of this had been done for the theatrics. Stark would _never_ actually choose to write something with paper and pen, not when he could create a list on his phone with the tap of a few buttons– or even just by telling his AI to make it for him.

“I do not have time for this,” Loki said, hoping to try for a last-ditch effort at avoiding what he _knew_ was going to be another recruitment drive. He’d suffered through enough attempts already.

“You’re sitting in a teashop, you’ve got time,” Stark said, almost offhandedly– but then he paused for a moment, as if he had just second-guessed his answer half a moment after uttering it. “I mean. I know I’m probably interrupting time you’ve set aside to relax, but this isn’t going to take long, I _swear._ And when I’m done, if you want me to leave, I’m _gone._ Promise.”

Somehow, at least the acknowledgement of that made Loki feel a little more agreeable. Not, of course, that such a thing was difficult.

At least… not when it was Stark.

And that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it?

“Fine,” Loki groaned, curling both hands around the warm teacup, knowing he was going to need the source of comfort to get him through the conversation in one piece. Norns, when was it that he had become reduced to this? When had the second prince of Asgard, the god of mischief, become so nervous about holding a conversation with a _mortal?_

(Rhetorical question, of course. Loki knew the answer– he merely did not wish to think on it at the present moment.)

“Awesome,” Stark said, shifting in his seat slightly as if he were making himself more comfortable—

“You have got until I finish my tea, and then I am leaving,” Loki warned sharply. Though – not that he would ever admit it out loud – the time limit was just as much for himself as it was for Stark.

“Well, that’s all right, you never drink your tea quickly, not when it’s in a teashop like this,” Stark shrugged. “You like to savour it. I’ve got at least half an hour, I reckon.”

Loki blinked. He’d only– well, in the eyes of this world he was still _technically_ a criminal, as he had never been pardoned nor subjected himself to any kind of reparations for his past actions, no matter how much public opinion had changed. He and Stark… well, they _had_ spent time together– Loki had assisted the Avengers now on _many_ occasions, and Stark had made something of a habit of simply _turning up_ when Loki was out and about, just as he had now. But… this was perhaps, at most, the third time Stark had seen Loki drinking tea in a teashop. Had he truly already worked out that titbit in over such a small number of instances?

Well, whether he had or not– it shouldn’t seem so significant, should it? It probably didn’t mean anything at all. It was just Stark’s incessant curiosity coming into play again.

Shaking the thought from his mind, Loki picked up his teacup and took a long, deliberate sip, holding Stark’s gaze as he did so.

Stark seemed to get the hint, and he hurriedly turned his list around so that Loki could read it the right way up.

“Here,” he said, gesturing to the title written in block letters across the top. “Pros and Cons of Loki of Asgard Officially Becoming an Avenger, as compiled by Tony Stark.”

“It appears that the ‘cons’ outweigh the ‘pros’,” Loki commented, feeling unamused as he examined the uneven lengths of the two dot-pointed columns.

“Only in number,” Stark said. “Quality over quantity, Lokes.”

“That doesn’t sound very mathematical.”

“Oh, I promise you, I’ve taken all of that into account. The results are quite conclusive.” Stark gave a wink. “Trust me, Lokes. My math is never wrong.”

Feeling a little thrown by that wink and busy trying to calm the flock of butterflies he could feel swarming about in his belly, Loki didn’t have the time to compose a proper response before Stark was continuing.

“Okay, you’re right that there are a fair few cons. I mean, first of all, you’re going to have to attend board-game night. And okay, as much as I think it would be _hilarious_ with you there, this is your list, and I’m pretty sure there are other things you would rather be doing with your time. Like, drinking tea. Which of course, comes under the pro list, see? I mean, have you heard that I’ve got a bit of money?”

“I might have heard something like that, yes,” Loki murmured, still feeling like his stomach was doing an elvish harvest dance without his permission, but managing to rein his focus back in to the situation at hand. He needed to _stop_ this—

“Well, I can definitely afford to order in some rare teas and stuff, anything you want, from anywhere in the world. And, _yeah_ , that does mean I do the same for all the others. Which, con– Thor has made a habit of sticking anything he can get his hands on into to the toaster, just to see what happens. I already have a whole cupboard entirely full of new toasters, we’re going through about one a day. Another con, I guess– you’ll have to live in the same building as Thor, which I know is not exactly on your list of desirable traits in a living space—”

“You’re correct there,” Loki commented—

“— _but_ , it does mean that you’ll get to live in the same place as _me,”_ Stark finished, his eyes wide and earnest. Though there was a touch of nervous hope in his next words. “That’s a pro, right?”

Loki grimaced– and Stark sighed. He pushed the list away, even though had barely even scraped the surface of what he had written down, and leaned forward once again with an expression that now seemed almost… _pleading._

“Loki, you’re not a villain anymore, everyone knows that,” Stark said. “You help us _all the time_ , you’re practically already a member of the team. And, if it’s because you like your space– you know that we’re not going to force you to be with us all the time, right? There are rooms for you in the tower, you can stay up there whenever you want, and JARVIS will make sure you have your privacy.”

Stark wasn’t entirely correct in his assumption, and yet… he wasn’t entirely wrong, either. But rather than attempting to formulate a diplomatic answer, Loki instead opted to focus on another part of what Stark had said.

“You’ve already prepared rooms for me?” he asked, surprised. “But I have never given any indication—”

“Not to be pushy, not anything like that,” Stark cut in quickly, quite clearly wanting to eliminate any misunderstandings before they occurred. “Living quarters were already set up for all of the Avengers, and I made sure there were a few extras just… in case. Look, I just– it’s all there if you want it, that’s all I mean. There’s nothing for you to worry about, you can just… show up.”

Loki nodded noncommittally, and Stark’s brow creased into a frown.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? Something that I missed,” he said. Then he glanced back down to his list. “Okay. So, I know that you would want somewhere to practice your mag– your _seiðr,_ and the training room will be perfect for that. I have a library, the walls are soundproofed, and I am more than happy for you to put a protective spell or something on any of the doors to stop Thor from getting in. Literally, any of them, go wild, he only deserves it after the time he left Mjölnir in front of the fridge. You can come and go as you want, there’s no rent, the worst neighbour is Clint and only because he has his habit of sneaking up behind people without making a single sound, and I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you. And… I mean, I can clear a space for you in my workshop, we can work together on stuff. I know you wanted to learn more about my arc reactors, maybe we can make a project of it. It’d be fun.”

“Stark, it’s not what you think—”

“Then what _is_ it?” Stark asked, his voice starting to sound a little strained. “Why don’t you want to come to the tower? What’s stopping you?”

“How about the fact that I simply _do not want_ to be an Avenger?” Loki snapped. He was long past beginning to be frustrated by this– though of course, not by what Stark was _asking_ , but… more by the fact that Loki _couldn’t_ utter the answer that he so desperately wanted to give.

His traitorous heart was aching, begging him to give in, but…

He knew better than that. This wasn’t something he could allow– the risk was too great.

Loki, after all, had ‘run the numbers’ himself oh so many times. He knew exactly what he would gain—

And what he would eventually, _inevitably_ lose.

The simple truth of the matter was that it would hurt too much. It was already difficult, even just sitting opposite Anthony, opposite the man he so dearly wished he could—

_No._

Thankfully, Stark provided enough of a distraction to tear Loki from his thoughts, but– the words themselves only fed into Loki’s frustration.

“But why _not?”_ Stark asked. “You already do everything we do, the only thing you’re missing is the free food and accommodation—”

“And the _boardgames,”_ Loki reminded him with a hiss. “What makes you think that I would want to spent time with the likes of you?”

“You’ve spent time planning missions with us before,” Stark tried. “You’ve spent _a lot_ of time with us, I don’t understand—”

“You were right. When you spoke before about privacy,” Loki interrupted, knowing that to agree with a previous point would give him a far higher likelihood of getting Stark to agree to back down. “I like having my own space. At present, I can leave you all whenever I so wish, but if I live in the same building then escape becomes more difficult.”

“I told you, you’ll have your own rooms and you can put up whatever spells you want. You can even have your own space for working—”

“Ah yes, you offered me a place in your _workshop—”_

“Is it _me,_ then?” Stark asked– but rather than the demanding tone Loki would have expected from him with such a question, Stark’s voice was instead almost… broken, a harsh whisper on a puff of air. “If it’s not the Avengers as a whole, if it’s not even Thor. You won’t join because of _me?”_

“Don’t be so arrogant—”

“It is, isn’t it? Loki, if I’m wrong, then look me in the eye and—”

“Then what if you’re right?” Loki snapped. “What if it _is_ that I don’t want to live in the same building as you, Stark? Would you leave me alone, then? Would you _stop_ following me every moment of the day, stop hounding me to join your group when I have so clearly stated that I _do not want—”_

The sound of shattering china cut into Loki’s words, and he looked down in shock at the tea and broken shards that were now spread over the table, staining Stark’s discarded list. He had been gripping the still-half full teacup so tightly that it had splintered in his hands.

Loki’s chest was heaving, and he flexed his fingers as he stared down at the wet surface, at the broken pieces that thankfully had not been sharp enough to cut through his skin the way they would have for a human. And maybe he was a little lost in the frustration, in the _ache_ – maybe he’d started to see red. But he certainly still noticed when Stark completely and utterly _broke_ just surely as the teacup had.

The sound of a shuddered breath caused Loki to look up, and he saw the way that Stark’s whole expression shattered, his lips pulling apart, his jaw trembling, his eyes going wide.

And Loki almost immediately wanted to take it back– but he, he knew that he couldn’t, he—

This was for the best.

Was it not?

That… was getting harder to believe, especially as Stark stood from his chair in a jerky movement that betrayed how much Loki’s words had hurt him.

“I’m sorry for ruining your relaxing afternoon,” Stark said, sounding stiff in the way which– usually meant an attempt to hold back _tears._ “I understand that you… would rather be alone. I will not bother you again, you have my word– if you can trust the word of a person you hate.”

“I do not _hate_ you,” Loki said– because as much as it might have been easier, he couldn’t allow that to stand. Not with what he knew about Stark’s past. Not with the way Stark’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

He hadn’t _–_ he hadn’t _meant_ to cause Stark pain, that was the last thing that he ever could have wanted. But it seemed that was all he had been able to achieve.

And… well.

“This is why I cannot stay,” Loki muttered. He waved his hand over the mess on the table, focusing his seiðr to piece the shattered ceramic back together– and then he stood from his chair. “ _This_ is why I cannot ever be an Avenger.”

“Because… you broke a teacup?” Stark seemed confused now– and in any other circumstance, the sweet sound of it might have made Loki smile. “I _did_ tell you about the number of toasters Thor’s exploded, right?”

“Because wherever I go, I bring only pain,” Loki corrected, his own voice near on hoarse. “I cannot… I can’t do this. Not to you. Not to _myself.”_

And Stark, somehow, despite the pain that he was quite clearly _currently_ feeling, managed to find the energy to say– “That’s not true, Loki. Not even close.”

“I think there is enough evidence to suggest otherwise,” Loki muttered, glancing to the door. As he did so, he noticed that a few of the teashop patrons and staff were looking worriedly in his direction– it would seem that the sound of the shattering cup had been enough to finally draw their attention, despite the spell he had put in place.

“No,” Stark said, cutting through Loki’s worry and gaining his focus once again. “There isn’t.”

“I just told you that _you_ are the reason why I do not want to live in the tower,” Loki said, _hoping_ that this might be enough to push the other man away properly. He hated that it was hurting Anthony, but… this was better. “Does that not hurt you?”

But rather than looking angry, as Loki had hoped… Stark’s frown turned into something _thoughtful_ instead.

“I think… that it seems like you’re doing this on purpose,” Stark said. “Loki. We have spent time together in the past, and you’ve never said anything like this, so… tell me. What is it _exactly_ that annoys you so much about me?”

Loki clenched his jaw, and looked away. “I should go.”

“But you didn’t finish your tea—”

“ _Stark._ You promised you would not bother me.”

“And you promised to listen. Look. I told you that my math is never wrong. It’s just… I don’t think I had all the necessary factors.” Stark tilted his head. “Loki, you’re still hiding something. And if you don’t want to talk about it, then. That’s okay. Just. Please, don’t… lie to me.”

Loki winced, because… well, he wasn’t exactly wrong, was he? He _had_ been missing a rather crucial element contributing to Loki’s refusal.

But Loki couldn’t _tell_ Stark what it was.

That would just.

Ruin everything.

So.

“Then I shan’t talk about it,” Loki said firmly.

“But Loki, if it’s causing you pain… just know that you _can,_ okay? If you want. I’ll listen.” Stark was sounding earnest again. Loki wasn’t sure what to make of it, except that, well—

“Even after everything I just said to you, you are _still_ kind to me,” he said. “ _Why?”_

Stark shrugged, and glanced away– but not before Loki saw an impossible pink tinge staining Stark’s cheeks. “I suppose I just like you,” he muttered.

“You _like_ me?” Loki echoed– and his voice was flat, but his insides felt like they were anything but. “Stark—”

“ _Tony,”_ Stark corrected. “Or even, I mean, I know you’ve used _Anthony_ on me before, which probably should be annoying but uh– it’s _you,_ so—”

“Anthony, then,” Loki cut in before the man could say anything that would crack through his composure any further. “Look. If I became an Avenger, if I lived in the same building as you… it will not end well. I will not be able to– being so close, it will– it will simply—” Loki cut himself off with a grimace—

And Anthony’s eyes were wide. “Oh,” he said. “Loki… you—”

“It is nothing,” Loki said sharply.

Anthony continued to stare for half a moment, before—

“You know what, Loki?” he said, a sudden blaze of determination lighting up his gaze. “I think there’s a chance _you’re_ the one who’s miscalculated.”

Loki frowned, trying to work out what he meant by that—

But then that frown turned to a gasp as Anthony stepped around the table with a single resolute stride, cupped Loki’s cheeks with both of his hands and then—

Loki gasped as their lips crashed together, as Anthony kissed him as if Loki were his only source of air. After a couple of seconds, Anthony pulled back– but then Loki leaned forward to chase his lips, pressing them back together, still half in shock but not willing to let the moment, the incredible _gift_ come to an end. His hands curled around Anthony’s hips to drag him closer, wanting, needing more, urged on by the taste on his tongue and the sound of Anthony’s quiet moan—

Then Loki heard the snap of a camera phone, and he pulled away from Anthony to throw out a wall of shimmering seiðr, shrouding them from the view of the other patrons. When he looked back, Anthony was watching him with an unguarded vulnerability– and with not a small amount of raw hope.

“So?” Anthony whispered. “What do you think?”

Loki cleared his throat, and as he answered with a voice that was a little rough, he smoothed his thumb gently over Anthony’s cheek. “I think… that perhaps we _both_ miscalculated.”

Anthony sighed as he leaned into Loki’s touch, his lips pulling into a smile. “And now?” he asked.

Loki gave a soft smile. “I believe I might be able to reshuffle my priorities.”

“Okay, Hermione,” Anthony said, and the sheer relieved _delight_ in his voice had Loki not caring about the reference he did not understand. “But do you have time to kiss me again, first? Because I think I need more evidence—”

Loki shut him up by pressing their lips back together, and he had the fleeting thought that his life would have been so much more peaceful if only he had thought of this method before—

But it really was truly fleeting, for it was not long before he was melting into Anthony’s kiss, an arm around Anthony’s waist, fingers in his hair. It was everything that he could have hoped, everything that he had ever dreamed, and yet somehow so much more all at once. And while he was kissing Anthony… it felt like all of his concerns melted away, like there was no reason to fight this.

He’d thought that Anthony did not like him in the same way, that living in the same building with the man he was in love with and who did not love him back would be far too painful a thing.

But– if Anthony felt the same way…

When their kiss broke, Loki leaned back and held Anthony’s gaze with a soft kind of smile. And, finally– he knew _exactly_ the right thing to say.

“It would seem that your math _was_ correct, after all.”

“You want to stay with the Avengers?” Anthony asked, near breathless.

“No,” Loki replied. “I want to stay with _you.”_

Anthony was already smiling, but he broke into a laugh as he pressed their foreheads together, his happiness completely infectious—

And yes, there was still a chance that this could end badly, as there was still plenty that they needed to discuss. But, well—

When Anthony was smiling at Loki like that?

It felt like any risk was a risk worth taking.


End file.
